


Inevitable

by scifiromance



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friendship/Love, Humor, Romance, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:42:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifiromance/pseuds/scifiromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven and Chakotay commiserate over another Valentine's Day derailed by Voyager's penchant for finding trouble... C/7 Valentine's Day one-shot, pure fluff with a little smut thrown in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable

Seven walked warily around the fragments of debris that were scattered through the hall. Thankfully it was mostly insignificant, bits of shredded wiring, wall panels that hadn’t been reattached to the wall in some engineer’s haste to re-route a damaged system and move onto the next; in truth this deck had hardly been touched compared to others, but she felt it was prudent to be careful nonetheless. The Nymtholians’ weaponry, impressive tactics and rampant paranoia meant that the final push to escape their space had left Voyager as fragile and tired as its crew. As for herself, she was persevering but admittedly on edge, not to the extent of the gut twisting apprehension she’d experienced when Voyager had narrowly avoided the Borg transwarp last year, she’d metaphorically looked over her shoulder, using Astrometrics sensors of course, for over a month after that, but the threat the Nymtholians presented couldn’t be dismissed yet either. Such were the risks of being part of Voyager’s journey. She’d accepted them too long ago, too early in her re-birth as a human perhaps, to even be able to consider dwelling on those risks to excess now.

Her cautious pace down the long since memorised corridors was proven well judged when some exposed circuitry in the left wall just a metre down from her suddenly before beginning to spark wildly for a few seconds, glowing with irrepressible energy before it the overload ended as quickly as it had sprung up, leaving an unsettling singed smell lingering in the hall. Seven barely hesitated before heading over and crouching down at a safe distance to peer in, her optical implant providing much needed acuity in the darkened little hollowed out space. The fleshy blue heart of the conduit that was the bio-gel pack pulsed lethargically for a few moments before blinking out altogether. It would need to be replaced, Seven concluded with a heavy sigh, glancing regretfully down at the small covered terrine she had balanced in one hand. No, she wasn’t obligated to repair this system right now, if she wasn’t mistaken it was part of the secondary back up for one of the port thrusters. B’Elanna wouldn’t want to waste one of the few remaining gel packs on such a relatively redundant system, though thankfully Seven had just recently developed a way to replicate those essential components but tonight replicators were down. Besides, she was nearing the end of even her legendary stamina, and now that the ship was stable and secure, the Captain had signalled as much by retreating to her quarters to sleep, Seven felt that she could fairly leave this particular repair until tomorrow, or later today since it was almost 0300 hours, without much guilt.

Having justified her own desires, Seven moved forward more quickly to her destination, soon giving the doorbell a single ring, as she’d learned was expected and polite. “Come in.” Chakotay’s smooth baritone was muffled by the doors as they took a moment to open, but Seven sighed tightly as she perceived the exhaustion in the familiar, beloved, voice.

She took the cue to enter his office without the hesitation that once upon a time would’ve been considerable. It was a small, sharply angled space, as if Voyager’s designers had only remembered to carve it into the schematics at the last moment, but it did have a spectacular window taking up one of the short walls, under which the couch sat, other than the desk the room was otherwise nearly empty. The contrast with the Captain’s Ready Room, which was three times bigger at least, was stark. Where the Ready Room was peppered with personal trinkets and Delta Quadrant curiosities, Chakotay kept this room purposefully austere. To put his personal belongings on display in his workspace would’ve been anthemia to his intensely private nature. He immediately looked up from the imposing pile of PADDs on his desk, the way the stress lines on his face altered course as he smiled at the sight of her making the tension still coiling her muscles ease considerably. “You’re out of uniform Crewman.” He remarked teasingly, his grin widening as he left the PADDs to escape from behind the desk.

“My uniform was…damaged and I could not replicate another.” Seven explained, “I decided this would have to suffice.” She looked down at her soft grey wool sweater and plain black slacks; when she’d finally decided that her crimes as a drone did not necessarily deny her the chance of blending in with the rest of the crew, she’d asked for a uniform and been presented with it by the Captain herself, yet it had still been a time of soul searching, since she doubted she ever would, or deep in her heart should, be accepted by Starfleet after what she’d done. Relinquishing her biosuits had not been nearly so difficult, she only now realised having dealt with a crisis in comfortable casual clothes, just how restricting the skin-tight garments had been. “You do not approve?” she queried, her eyebrow mildly raised

“I do, not that you need it.” Chakotay replied in the same tone as he reached her, becoming more serious as his eyes skimmed over her in deep concern. “I heard you were injured, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to Sickbay…”

Seven gently touched his arm in reassurance, “You were needed on the Bridge.” She reminded him firmly, “I dislocated my shoulder, unfortunately my human arm is more vulnerable to such injury than my Borg one, but the Doctor repaired me quickly.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t too bad…” Chakotay admitted, his relief vividly evident on his face as he carefully took her safely undamaged Borg hand and gave it a squeeze, “…but I know a dislocation hurts like hell.”

Seven shrugged that off ruefully before studying him intently, her enhanced sight now giving her a painfully clear view of the bags under his eyes. “What about you? I thought you would’ve retreated to your quarters as the Captain did for the sleep you definitely require, I was surprised when the sensors told me you were here…”

Chakotay gave her a fond smirk, “You do realise it’s ironic that you’re telling me I should rest right Seven? I still remember myself or the Captain having to order you to go off-duty on a regular basis not long ago…”

Seven regarded him wanly, but humour still glinted in her eyes. “Point taken Commander.”

Chakotay allowed himself a ragged chuckle as he ran a stressed hand through his hair, “Honestly, I would be in my quarters right now, if there hadn’t been a ruptured conduit in there.” He turned his head towards the couch, which Seven now noticed had a blanket laid over it. “That’ll be my bed for tonight at least.”

Seven’s reaction was instant, her face falling as she tried to pull herself from his hold and head back for the door, “You should have informed me, I will attempt to repair it at once…”

Chakotay had to put his arms around her waist to stop her, since he was still conscious of her newly healed shoulder. “Don’t worry about it tonight.” He told her in a tone which brooked no argument, “I’m fine here and you’ve been up just as long as I have, if not longer.” He looped a loose strand of her disordered hair over her ear, seeing the starches as well as grease marks on her face. “As much as I’m glad to see you after a day like this one, you should be regenerating.”

Seven held his hand in place over her cheek as she murmured ruefully, “I would offer you Cargo Bay 2, but it lacks even a couch.”

Chakotay leaned into her until their foreheads touched, “The Captain would grant you quarters of your own if you asked for them Seven…” He reminded her again, they’d had this conversation before.

Seven sighed and pulled back from him slightly, “I doubt now is a good time, since many decks are damaged and crewmembers displaced as you are. Also, B’Elanna cannot spare the time to consider how to relocate my alcove, if it is possible at all.” She softened the disillusioned tone of that conclusion by cocking her head at him, “Don’t you like me coming to your quarters in any case?”

“You know the answer to that one…” Chakotay muttered huskily against her lips before finally drawing her into a prolonged kiss. “But that isn’t what I’m talking about and you know it.”

“I do.” Seven admitted as she reluctantly unwound herself from around him, summoning up a lighter smile. “But for tonight I’ve brought you some ‘home comforts’.” She confidently presented him with the terrine she’d brought in with her.

Chakotay, his mouth already watering as the scent of food hit his nose, eagerly opened the lid. “I thought replicators were down…” He said quickly as he sat down on the couch with a thud.

“They are.” Seven confirmed as she sat down beside him.

Chakotay frowned suspiciously for a second when he saw that the longed for hot meal was a simple bowl of soup, he’d learned not to trust his first impressions where Chell’s cooking was concerned. “There’s not any Leola Root in this is there? I heard a nasty rumour that Chell had found one of Neelix’s secret supplies…”

Seven feigned offence, “ _I_ prepared this meal Chakotay, its potato soup. Thankfully the crops in Hydroponics have survived the Nymtholian onslaught intact.” Her face darkened perceptively, “Chell was badly injured in Engineering.”

Chakotay instantly halted his search for a spoon he’d begun when Seven had confirmed the soup was one of her own, reliably perfect, culinary creations, and turned to her sharply. “How’s he doing?”

“The Doctor stabilised him quickly, he’s expected to make a full recovery.” Seven assured him, “I merely stepped in at the Mess Hall to provide the required meal at the last minute.” She glanced down at the soup regretfully, “It may not be the best example of my cooking, I had to rush and that is the last of the pot…”

“Believe me Seven; the worst of your cooking is better than Chell’s best attempts.” Chakotay advised her warmly, “Besides I’m so starving right now I could eat a horse.”

“I’m glad to hear that you’d be willing to give up your vegetarianism if you were faced with imminent starvation, though why should horses be singled out?” Seven remarked as she helpfully supplied him with a spoon

Chakotay lifted his head up from slurping his soup to explain the idiom but quickly burst out laughing, nearly choking on his mouthful, as he saw her blue orbs twinkling at him. Even now, when he knew her so intimately, he could still be caught out by her deadpan delivery. “No reason…” He managed to finally force out through his laughter.

Seven allowed herself to relax back into the sofa, pleased that her dry little joke had gotten him to unwind, but soon enough her ever alert eyes fell on the PADDs and her sense of duty kicked in. “I can render you some assistance with the reports.”

“No Seven, you don’t have to…” Chakotay tried to hold her back but she easily shrugged him off and rose gracefully up from the couch, crossing the short distance to his desk. Chakotay could already see her mentally cataloguing his disorganised pile as she sorted through it.

She gave him an amused but smoothing smile, “I don’t think I need to tell you that I can read quicker than you.”

Chakotay had wolfed down the soup in record time and set the bowl aside before admitted defeat without much reluctance, “I guess two minds are better than one, though not much helps with digesting these reports.”

“Particularly when there is so little good to report.” Seven agreed wearily, her head already bowed over one particular PADD as she sank back down onto the couch beside him. “Although, Tom’s status report from helm control says that when he went off-duty the ship was still able to maintain a steady warp three. I calculate that it will take us another 27 hours to be free of the Nymtholians reach at that speed…” She paused to pick up a second PADD, “Hopefully B’Elanna and Ensign Vorik will be able to restore higher warp function within the eight hour estimate they provide, and we can thus leave this region behind sooner.”

“I’ve learned to trust B’Elanna’s estimates, she doesn’t overestimate like some engineers, we’ll just have to hope we don’t hit any more delays.” Chakotay confided in a low tone as he rubbed his gritty eyes and sighed heavily as he looked over at his girlfriend of almost eight months, “Today, well yesterday now, hasn’t turned out as we would’ve liked, has it?”

Seven shot him a questioning look, but dipped her gaze, a subtle blush painting the cheeks that had been drained grey by exhaustion as she met his knowing eyes. “You already realised that I had conducted…” She cleared her throat awkwardly, “…research into Valentine’s Day?”

Chakotay gave her knee an affectionate squeeze, “You research everything honey.” Honestly, it was one of the many traits she had that endeared him to her, that quiet earnestness she kept hidden. She’d experienced so much in her life, more callous violence and consuming darkness than he would’ve wished on his worst enemy let alone the woman he’d come to love, but still she could embrace new, simple experiences with fresh eyes that reminded him how close he’d come not long ago to becoming irreparably jaded.

“Yes…yes, I suppose I do.” Seven mumbled bashfully, turning her face back towards the PADDs she held even as he took the chance to close the already miniscule gap between them and trail feather light kisses along the curve of her jaw. “Tuvok is concerned about internal security with the numerous hull breeches the ship has sustained, although he reports that the containment fields are holding steady and the starboard phasers have been repair…” She gasped softly as Chakotay’s lips grazed the sensitive spot in the hollow of her throat, “Chakotay…” She chastised him half-heartedly, tapping him lightly on the chest with the back of her hand before breathlessly trying to continue reading, “…have been repaired and that the plasma torpedo stock is sustainable…”

Chakotay finally rocked his body away from her, breaking contact, satisfaction tickling him when he heard Seven sigh in disappointment. “Tuvok’s being overcautious if he thinks the Nymtholians will try to beam through out containment fields this close to their border, but I’ll try to wrangle more security from somewhere, despite the fact that most of the affected decks were evacuated hours ago…”

“Caution is only logical.” Seven reminded him wryly as she bent to retrieve a third PADD, but a twinge from her shoulder up through her neck made her grimace in pain. She tried to cover the slip, but Chakotay, perceptive as always, had seen it.

“You should have that arm in a sling.” He told her seriously, now watching her every move intently.

“That is unnecessary.” Seven countered in a brittle tone, “The Doctor assured me that he’d repaired all of the major damage…” She bit her lip as Chakotay’s eyes bored into her, “…although he did advise that due to some lingering minor soft tissue damage I may feel…jarred for several days.”

“Well I can’t say I’m surprised at that.” Chakotay responded, although he was surprised that Seven had admitted as much, she hated conceding weakness, often to her own detriment. “But maybe I can help a little.” He added, starting to shrug off his uniform jacket.

Seven shyly eyed the prominent muscles in his arms exposed by his vest, her voice taking on a guilty hopefulness. “You would give me another massage?”

“It’s not as if it’s unpleasant for me to do Seven.” Chakotay teased her gently, repositioning behind her so he could easily reach her shoulders, his smile widening as she instantly responded to his touch as a cat would, leaning into his hand even as she made a small grunt of pain.

Seven could sense the shift in his mood, and turned her head a tiny fraction to catch his eye. “What?”

Chakotay shook his head ruefully as he began to properly knead at her muscles, round her shoulders, up her neck, down to the top of her spine. “I was just thinking that you enjoy my massages a lot more than anyone else I ever made sit through them before.”

Seven shot him such an openly incredulous look, one which said ‘How could anyone in their right mind not enjoy your massages?’ so clearly that he felt a surge of love for her. “I’m sure your mother always appreciated them.” She replied as she leaned forward to let his hands run all the way down her back, working into the sensitive threads of human skin that were weaved around the implant torturously embedded into the entirety of her spine to control the implants left throughout her lower limbs. “As for the Captain…” Chakotay had confided to her most of the details of his time on New Earth over time, as well as many other things before she’d joined the crew, such as how it had felt to be disembodied. “…she has some strange ideas of relaxation.” She finally flopped down onto her stomach on the couch, pulling her sweater up as she stretched out. As she sighed in contentment, she couldn’t help but remember back, early on, when she’d had to consciously try not to flinch when Chakotay touched her implants, not necessarily because they hurt, though they often did, but because her self-conscious loathing had once been so strong.

“I did warn you not to let her talk you into going into that Victorian gothic holo-programme with her…” Chakotay chuckled, pressing his fingers deeper into her skin, though careful to hurt neither her injured shoulder nor her tender implants. He’d been upset, when they’d first become close, to realise just how much pain Seven was in daily. The enhancements that were the trade-off disguised how much her human design and Borg components were at war over her body, but he would never forget the time when he’d once walked into Sickbay looking for her to see her lying in terse silence as the Doctor corrected a malfunction in her leg, blinking away unshed tears of agony.

“I know.” Seven admitted, her short exasperated sigh becoming a soft moan of pleasure under his ministrations. “But I did not know about the outfits she replicates for it, the corsets and the layers of skirt, not only pointless but uncomfortably cumbersome and limiting…” She turned her face to the side on the couch, vaguely remembering that she _should_ have been reading reports to him, but quickly dismissed the thought. “I also could never understand the premise, the male protagonist, ‘the lord of the manor’, rapidly loses all appeal when he suffers such irrational turmoil over his feelings for the governess, the only eligible woman in the programme. The human males I’ve interacted with don’t often torture themselves in that way. He’s just so… _spineless_ …”

Chakotay could stop himself from smirking at the fact that the hologram so obviously repelled her. “I’ll need to remember to keep a tight grip on my spine then.” He joked, laughing himself when he felt Seven’s frame shudder with laughter, her soft giggles muffled by the cushion she’d pressed her face into.

“You’ve never had a fundamental problem with that before, I assure you.” She replied in relief.

“I think the Captain would argue you just don’t have any sense of class division, and thank God for that.”

“Do I require such a sense?” Seven asked doubtfully, “Perhaps on 19th Century Earth, but not now…”

Chakotay sighed to himself as he answered, “The Federation is a wonderful place, don’t get me wrong Seven, but humanoids always feel superior to each other, have a sense of pride. Remember that I’m from the border colonies, the fringes of civilisation…”

“You are the most civilised person I know.” Seven cut him off, flipping over onto her back for a moment so she could face him, sitting up to kiss him tenderly.

Chakotay gave a low groan as she broke the kiss before pushing her back down gently. “Roll over again, I’m not done.” He had to take a deep breath before restarting the massage as she obeyed him. “Maybe you and the Captain should just stick to your games of Velocity; you’re both madly competitive enough to enjoy that.”

“Yes.” Seven agreed with a smile, “Or entertaining Maestro Da Vinci.”

“Entertaining _him_?” Chakotay repeated in confusion, “Seven, _he’s_ the hologram…”

“I know.” Seven assured him wryly, “But I believe he gains more entertainment from my and the Captain’s artistic efforts than we could ever gain from his.”

Chakotay let more laughter bubble out from his chest, indulging himself by revelling in humour. “Maybe…” He began with new caution as he rubbed circles into her back, his fingers occasionally slipping under her bra, “We should try Neelix’s old Paxau Resort programme, if you like massages so much you might enjoy it there.”

Seven frowned, “The Doctor took me there once, isn’t that the programme with all the characters in revealing swimwear and drinking elaborate cocktails?” She sounded distinctly unimpressed.

“Yes…” Chakotay conceded, “But I’d remove all the half naked characters if _we_ went there, although honestly I never objected to the drinks myself…” Seven turned her head to smirk at him knowingly, he was caught. “The way Neelix originally designed the programme it was more luxury spa than Spring Break hotel, you’d like that better. We certainly need to relax after all this with the Nymtholians recently.”

Seven stretched out the last of her long frame over the couch, leaving just enough room for Chakotay to perch on. “So…you’re suggesting that I go to a holographic spa to have a holographic Talaxian masseuse help me to relax…” She murmured thoughtfully, “And you’d be nearby getting similar treatment from another hologram…”

“I guess that’s what I’m suggesting, yes.” Chakotay answered without much confidence, he wasn’t sure where she was going with this train of thought.

“I think…” Seven began slowly as she pulled her sweater off altogether, “…I prefer you doing it.” She told him honestly, her voice low and her face flushed as she twisted her way out of her bra and then dropped it to join her sweater on the floor. “Helping me to relax I mean.” She clarified needlessly as she flipped over to look up at him, her gaze as loving as it was vulnerable.

“Good.” He replied huskily, almost beyond words as he looked down at her, giving her that honest, open, loving smile that her reserved for her. “Happy Belated Valentine’s Day.”


End file.
